


Ballroom Etiquette

by Nenalata



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Crouching Horny Hidden Feelings, Drabble, F/M, Middle Names, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenalata/pseuds/Nenalata
Summary: Sylvain has one very big, simple reason for wanting to dance with Mercedes at the ball. Well,twovery big, simple reasons.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: Honest Reasons to Fight





	Ballroom Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter at [NenalataWrites](https://twitter.com/NenalataWrites), where you can regret following me! I am extremely unfriendly and an absolute delight.

It was just a matter of time.

“Mercedes von Martritz, most divine of visions—may I have this dance?”

It wasn’t because Sylvain mistook that one girl for her sister he’d kissed two “goodnights” ago and had gotten a drink thrown in his face for his trouble. It wasn’t because he’d therefore found himself partnerless for this dance. It wasn’t because he was running out of unique excuses for the hundredth, thousandth girl, why, sorry, I can’t go to the Goddess Tower with you, which is _such_ a shame, you’re _so_ gorgeous.

“I suppose you may, Sylvain Gautier.”

“Please,” Sylvain winked, drawing Mercedes close with maybe a little too much familiarity, “call me Jose. Let me hear something different from your lips.”

It was because even in these truly unflattering formal uniforms, Mercedes’s breasts still looked _fantastic_. He bet they’d be very comfortable pressed tight against his chest.

Sylvain was correct. _First brilliant idea all night_.

With hardly a blush to her cheeks, Mercedes laughed in time with the music sparkling to life, and he swept her along into the center of the dance floor.

Away from as many familiar female faces as he could.

Goddess, Mercedes was all softness and curves in his arms, wasn’t she? She tripped on his feet more often than not, but once Sylvain realized he could just…move her along the steps he’d known since childhood, take control of both their bodies…It became a lot easier, a lot more fun, and a lot more…something. Something not very respectful but really, _really_ appealing—

“Do you give all the girls from town a different name to call you?”

Now it was Sylvain’s turn to trip. Unfortunately, he was carrying both of them, so the stumble ruined all sense of rhythm. “Sorry, what?” he said once they’d—he’d—found their footing again.

“I asked,” she said straight into his ear, “if Jose is supposed to be what _I_ call you. And one girl in town knows you as Carlisle, and another as Sebastien, and another as—”

Her breath made chills rise on the back of his neck. He tried not to show it. “No,” he said, his lips against her own ear. “It’s my middle name. And no one knows it but you.”

The song died, the students applauded, and Sylvain would kiss her, he’d pull her close when she tried to pull away, he knew it and she did, too, she must. He grinned at her when she leaned forward.

“Oh, no! You have something on your uniform!”

Ah. Right. The drink.

“Maybe I should just take it off, huh?” Sylvain winked, _stupid, impulsive, familiar_. Mercedes ignored him. She was already smirking—as much as Mercedes could smirk, at any rate—and dabbing at his jacket with a delicately-scented handkerchief pulled from nowhere.

“It would be such a waste,” she hummed. “You look so handsome in it.”

Sylvain shut up. He let her dab away the thrown drink, touch gentle, like she was cleaning a wound.


End file.
